Page 112 of A Highland Bride Disciplined
I’ll speak to her when there was air to breathe.
23
Scarlett lingered in the nursery long after Elise fell asleep. The lass had one tiny fist curled against her cheek, and the faintest whistle on her lips with each breath. Scarlett bent low, brushed a kiss against that warm cheek, and let her fingers trail across the soft curls.
“Sleep, my wee fierce one,” she whispered. “Sleep while the rest o’ us lose our wits.”
She straightened, her whole body heavy, and made her way down the stairwell. Each step echoed too loud, too final. She’d watched her sisters depart — Mabel waddling, hand on her swollen belly, Campbell fussing over her like an old hen, Connor and Ollie vowing to protect their mother like knights from a tale. Skylar had hugged Scarlett so tightly she could still feel her ribs ache. And her father — even Hamish MacLennan — had begged her to leave.
But she couldn’t. Not when this battle was about Elise.
She found Kian where she knew he’d be. He was pacing the length of the hall, barking instructions at a servant boy with a tray of bolts for the armory. His voice was clipped, his posture iron. He didn’t see her at first. He rarely did anymore, not with his head buried in preparations.
It had been days since Roderick left them in the study. Sleepless nights and terribly long days.
When he finally turned, she stepped into his path. “Kian.”
He stopped, one brow lifting in mild surprise. “Scarlett.”
“Walk wi’ me.” She gestured to the side door that led to the small library.
He hesitated only a moment before following her in.
The library was dim, dust motes drifting in slanting beams of light, shelves groaning with old Crawford tomes. She shut the door behind them. The silence pressed close.
“Ye look tired,” she said, keeping her voice softer than she’d meant to.
He let out a rough chuckle. “Do I? Thought I’d hidden it wi’ my charm.”
She arched a brow. “Charm? I must’ve blinked.”
For a moment, just a moment, it was easy between them. Like no battle loomed. Like no babe’s future hung on the balance.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Have ye eaten today, husband?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Nay, just a few crackers and cheese.”
Scarlett crossed the room, and pulled the door open. A small figure loomed in the shadows. “Did Cookie send ye up as I had asked him to do earlier today? Or are ye here for the laird?”
“Cookie sent me, m’lady.”
“Ah… good. We’ll need a supper tray for two here. Please tell Cookie to bring it promptly.”
“Aye, m’lady,” the lad said and took off in a dead sprint back down the stairs to the kitchens before Scarlett could even close the door again.
“I’m really fine, Scarlett,” Kian said, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“It’s a wife’s duty to care for her husband, Kian,” she said, the irony plain between them. “Ye’ll do well to let me.”
Not a few silent minutes later, as Scarlett continued to feed the hearth, there was a soft knock on the door.
Kian stood, but Scarlett waved him away. “I’ve got it.”
Cookie left for them two plates of turkey legs, a warmed loaf of brown oat bread, a wedge of soft cheese, and pot of honeyed tea.
The large tray clinked softly as Scarlett maneuvered it into the room and set it between them on the low table.
Kian leaned forward in his chair, eyeing it with suspicion. “Is this yer way o’ softenin’ me? Feedin’ me into submission?”
